


Out Go The Lights

by Lexipedia369



Series: Slow Burn (A Musical Affair) [2]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Halloween, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 12:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexipedia369/pseuds/Lexipedia369
Summary: Delilah and Clint visit a haunted house within a haunted house. Shenanigans ensue. It's traumatic and amusing for everyone.





	Out Go The Lights

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of several drabbles I have in the BTS universe. It's out of order, but it's fun and complete and I wanted to share it because of Halloween.

“Come on, HP. You know you wanna go. It’ll be fun.” She kicked her bare legs over the side of the table like a small child with her well-loved canvas shoes barely hanging on to her toes. It wasn’t really shorts and tank top weather, but then, it wasn’t like Delilah got cold, either. She reclined on the empty workbench across from her friend, watching him painstakingly assemble some part for his Iron Man suit. 

Tony pushed his welding goggles up his forehead with a disapproving frown. “Oh yeah, absolutely. Random people jumping out at me and yelling. Not at all flashback inducing or bad. Not to mention it’s a haunted house _ within _ a haunted house. Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

The Junior League Haunted House was an annual charity event to raise money for Toys for Tots as well as their ongoing youth initiatives. From all accounts it was one of the most fun haunted houses in the city. The fact that it was in a building that dated back to almost the Victorian period and was rumored to have its share of spooks and specters was just a bonus. 

Now it was her turn to frown. “Since when do you believe in ghosts?”

“Let’s just say I don’t _ not _ believe and leave it at that, can we?” He readjusted the equipment in front of him and cocked his head as he looked it over. “I would have thought Capsicle would take you. He seems like he’d be into that kind of thing.” 

“Steve…” she rolled her gaze toward the ceiling as she considered how to phrase her thoughts. “He doesn’t quite see the point of going to a haunted house and I’m still working on having him wear a costume to your party, so I need to pick my battles. Not to mention the whole ‘people leaping out at him’ thing might be a bad deal.”

“See? It’s not just me!” Tony crowed triumphantly with his welding torch held aloft over his head. 

“Boss, Agent Barton is outside, shall I let him in?”

Tony nodded and flipped his welding helmet down. “Yes please do, FRIDAY. Especially if it means an end to this tedious conversation.”

“God, you’re such a child. It’ll be fun. I think you’re allergic to fun.”

“It’s not my fault your idea of fun is both dull and trite.” 

The glass doors to Tony’s lab whispered opened behind her, and in strolled Clint in a vintage Dokken shirt with cutoff sleeves over a pair of jeans that was more shreds than actual denim and his armguard. He winked as he passed her by on his way to the workbench where Tony was modifying a different part of his suit. 

“Yeah… so those new explosive arrowheads you wanted me to test?” The way he cringed when he spoke had the engineer powering down his arc-welder and giving the man his full attention.

“How bad?” he asked as he raised his helmet again.

“More sparkler on the Fourth of July, less ‘Death from Above’.” Clint pulled a box from the threadbare pocket of his jeans and slid them gingerly across the table toward Tony. 

Her dark-haired friend stared at the box for a long moment before heaving a sigh and dropping his face shield back into place. “Okay. I’ll add them to my list of shit to do in the relatively near future.”

The blond beamed as he slapped him on the arm. “Thanks man.” 

“Can I get a light?” Tony held up his welding torch in Delilah’s direction. She’d taken to lighting it for him when they worked on her brace and cane, prior to the nanite installation. He’d helped her so much, it was really the least she could do. 

She hopped off the table and lit him up with a flick of her fingers. “Only because I love you.” She slapped his ass before wandering across the room to the fridge for a bottle of water. 

“Buttering me up isn’t going to make me go, Hotstuff.” He looked over his shoulder in her direction and even though she couldn’t see his face, she could hear his smirk. 

Amused by their interaction, Clint hopped up on the table where she’d been sitting, effectively stealing her spot. “Where are you trying to drag him?” 

She sighed dramatically and cracked open her beverage. “I got two tickets to the Junior League Haunted House and Nervous Nellie over there won’t go with me.” Delilah couldn’t help the pout that followed that sentence. It had been a while since she and Tony had hung out outside of him making her gear and she missed his cranky butt. 

The archer’s big blue eyes lit up the moment she said ‘haunted house’. “Ooooh, the one inside the _ actual _ haunted house?”

Dee nodded eagerly. “Yeah! It’s supposed to be great. I figured we could make a night of it.”

“Cap doesn’t want to take you?” 

Her lips pursed as she thought about her conversation with her boyfriend. “Yeah, he’s not really into it. He’d go, but he doesn’t really see the point. Plus the moment someone jumped out at him, he probably wouldn’t react well.” 

Clint blinked several times as his eyes unfocused imagining just such a scenario. “Yeah, probably for the best.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I’ll go,” he offered with a nonchalant one-shoulder shrug. 

“Really?” She was practically bouncing on her toes in glee. 

“Sure! Phil’s off on a mission, so we’ll hang out. It’ll be great.” 

“Fantastic, I’m glad that’s settled. Now both of you, get the hell out of my lab!” 

Tony was on the receiving end of one stuck-out tongue and one obscene hand gesture as they left. 

“He’s a spoilsport.”

“Allergic to fun, I’m telling you.” 

* * *

The ride uptown was pretty quick, just a couple subway stops before they were out on the street and headed to their destination. 

Delilah had changed into more appropriate outdoor attire of a white cable-knit sweater, corduroy skirt, and black riding boots. Steve had been _ very _ appreciative of the look before they left. Clint had opted for a faded green henley that showed off his muscular chest and arms over the jeans. Dee promised Tasha she’d defend his virtue if she had to. 

The line to get into the three story Queen Anne Victorian mansion wasn’t too bad for mid season. It helped that Dee’d already scored the tickets, but still, they didn’t have to spend the evening fending off the cold. 

The ground floor was opulence defined. Persian rugs, dark wood paneling, imposingly large chandeliers, the works. It was straight out of a Hollywood backlot period piece. Only she got the feeling most of what she was seeing was, in fact, the real deal. Their journey started when they mounted the stairs, passing out of the well-lit parlor and into the daunting blackness of the second floor. 

“You wanna hold hands?” Clint whispered. She’d felt the heat of him moving a bit closer to her, though she wasn’t sure if it was for his protection or hers. 

She snorted, her eyes moving as she heard a noise coming from the darkness on her right. “I’m good, bud. You?” They were the only two in their group and the further they made it down the hall, the more oppressive the feeling around them became. 

The archer straightened away from her and squared his shoulders. “Nah, I’m—fuck me running with a chainsaw!” he squealed and jumped behind her as the door at the end of the hallway shot open, revealing a neon-lit corpse approaching them, head in hand. 

“Okay, that’s bad.” The ‘ghost’ moved pretty spryly for someone whose eyeballs were now waist-high, and the attention to detail and realism was disgustingly impressive. 

The ‘spectre’ shrieked and ran at them, chasing them until they rounded a corner, at which point, Dee and Clint paused for a <strike>minor hysterical freakout</strike> breather. “Now there’s something you don’t see everyday,” she huffed out between pants. “You were saying?” She couldn’t resist tweaking him just a bit, just because. 

“Oh whatever, dude.” He took her hand decisively, almost like he dared her to say something else. 

They walked for a bit, hearing noises and footsteps, seeing things move out of the corners of their eyes, feeling people in the darkness move closer to them and then away again. It was a very creepy vibe and they were both winding up for the next jump-scare. 

“That was a pretty high-pitched scream for an assassin,” she mused softly as they neared another door. 

The growl next to her was totally worth it. “It wasn’t a scream and let us never speak of it again.” 

“Fair enough,” she agreed magnanimously. When nothing jumped from behind the door, she held it open for him with her hand out. “Shall we?”

The darkness of the hallway gave way to a weirdly lit funhouse area with strangely patterned walls and floors and a strobe light that was almost nauseating to observe. An agonized wail drew their attention to the corner of the room where a person dressed in a white clown suit with crazy red hair and a rictus grin painted on his neon white face was pulling the intestines out of a woman strapped to a table. It was disturbing as he looked over his shoulder and noticed them, running at them with the innards in his hands. 

“Fuckin’ hell!” Dee pulled her friend along behind her surprisingly quickly for someone with a limp until they made it to the next room. The performer got a lot closer a lot faster than she would have preferred. 

“That was interesting.” He sounded amused, like he knew they were even now and had no problem rubbing it in. 

“No goddamn clowns,” she muttered darkly. 

Clint picked up her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles as he exhaled a quick laugh. “Noted.”

The next couple scares got even closer still, with each performer chasing them, and they were only just able to flee to safety. It was an adrenaline rush and a half, but even then, her feeling of oppression--like something bad was about to happen--never left her. 

“They’re not allowed to touch you, right?” Clint asked as they mounted the stairs to the third floor. 

“I wouldn’t think so,” she answered, though her tone said she wasn’t quite as sure as her answer would indicate. 

The feeling of unease that had beset her the moment she walked in the building was now a buzz in her head, an itch just out of reach, and only getting stronger. It was almost enough for her to want to mention it to Clint, but she knew he’d laugh at her and then she’d have to kick him in the shins again. It was too much effort. 

They left the stairwell and were immediately enveloped in a kind of darkness that qualified as sensory deprivation. No sound other than their breathing and her heart in her ears, they walked along a path indicted by a rope on one side, with Clint in the lead. Delilah wasn’t happy about bringing up the rear, but given that they were a party of two, her options were minimal. 

From the corner of her eye, a white light drew her attention and brought her to a halt. It was across the room, and bobbing around, but it was clear as day. 

“You see that?” she murmured, as she tapped his hand. As soon as the words left her mouth the light cut out. 

“See what?” 

Hell. “Nevermind.” It wasn’t something she felt like explaining but as they walked along, she knew they weren’t as alone as it seemed. The lights appeared and disappeared again a couple times, dancing closer each time before winking out and since Clint didn’t bring them up, she didn’t either. 

It felt like they’d been walking forever in the darkness and the suspense was unbearable, but then it happened. 

A hand gripped her wrist firmly and she snapped. Shrieking high enough to make glass vibrate, she yanked her wrist toward her body and used the momentum to smash the person who grabbed her in the face with her fist at least three times that she could tell. When the scare happened, with an airhorn going off loudly all around them as the lights blazed to life suddenly, what Clint saw had him doubled over in laughter. 

Delilah stood over her victim, victorious as she kept a foot on his chest, hands up like she’d learned in training. Natasha would be so proud. The kid on the floor would have been rolling around in pain, but the blood flowing out of his nose and down his cheeks when he pulled up his black faceless mask said everything his moans of pain couldn’t. 

“Jesus, lady!”

All at once she came back to herself, realizing where she was and what was going on. “Oh fuck! I’m so sorry! You shouldn’t have touched me, but I’m so sorry! Holy shit! I’m so sorry…” she repeated it as she gingerly removed her foot from his chest and took a step back. 

“Easy, killer.” Clint, wiping mirthful tears from his cheeks, leaned over and helped the kid to his feet, breaking into giggles as the young man in the black bodysuit’s legs crumpled underneath him. “She really rung your bell, huh, kid?”

“That wasn’t supposed to happen!” the teenager whined as another performer came through to see what the ruckus was about. As the archer handed him off to his coworker, his blackened eyes widened comically. “Holy shit! You’re Hawkeye!”

Clint was at her side in an instant later. “Time to go.”

Dee couldn’t agree more, doing her best to keep up with his quick pace as he squired her out of the room and on to the next scene. And if she happened to hear a snickering giggle coming from an empty corner of the room right before they left, well, that was between her and the wall. 

The scenes after that were tame to the point of being mundane. Apparently when you pummel a performer, word travels quickly. By the time they made it outside, they were greeted by a small crowd that had gathered around the ambulance and the police car at the front of the mansion. 

Clint’s lips twitched, but wisely he kept quiet. Hoping for a quick and discreet exit, they left the grounds and headed in the opposite direction of the way they came. “We’ll get an Uber,” he told her as they crossed the street away from the scene of the crime. 

“No need,” a voice behind them called, bringing both of them to screeching halt. They turned slowly to see the grinning face of one Tony Stark, looking like a cool suburban dad in his leather jacket and trendy jeans that cost more than most of the cars parked on the street, strolling up to them looking like he was having the time of his life. “How’s it goin’, Boom Boom? Though ‘First Punch Ford’ has a nice ring to it. Maybe ‘The Schenectady Steamroller’? No? ‘Midtown Mauler’, then?”

The nicknames broke Clint, and it was all she could do to keep him upright and off the sidewalk as he dissolved into a heap of gasping, sloppy giggles. 

“He shouldn’t’ve touched me,” she offered defensively. She was horrified that she’d hit a performer, but he was actually pretty lucky she’d only punched him. A few times.

“Uh huh. Pretty sure he’s not going to be seeing or touching anyone else for the next couple days. Go you!” Tony linked his arm with hers, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss to her temple as he led them down the sidewalk to the waiting black Mercedes with Happy and Steve both leaning against it with matching crossed arms and disappointed looks. Over his shoulder, he yelled down the block, “Catch up, Legolas! Let’s go get some tacos.”

Happy opened the back door and Delilah folded herself into one of the seats. She was followed by Tony and Clint, whose eyes were so red, it looked like he’d been binge watching ‘This Is Us’. Last but not least was the love of her life, Steve, in his brown bomber jacket and jeans that really magnified the national treasure that is his ass. He had The Look™ and she shuddered to imagine the lecture she had coming her way.

The ride to the taqueria was filled with Clint’s highly embellished debrief of their adventure in the haunted mansion, right down to the sound effects. Surprisingly enough, he left out the part about him screaming like a banshee at the headless corpse. By the time they rolled up to the restaurant, all the guys were laughing and she was left with a flaming blush and a smile made entirely of rue. 

Delilah got out of the car last, taking Steve’s hand as she emerged on the sidewalk. So far he hadn’t really said too much too her, and she was honestly mortified. She would never want to embarrass him with her actions and this _ totally _ qualified. Pausing on the sidewalk just outside the doors to the restaurant, she turned to her boyfriend. “Look, babe—” 

He slung an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to his side and kissing her forehead, effectively silencing her. “So…” he gazed down at her with laughing eyes and the most affectionate smile she’d ever seen. “You were the one worried about my reactions, huh, Sugar Ray?”

The nickname brought an unbidden bark of laughter to her lips as she lightly slapped his chest. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, chuckles.”

His beautifully perfect face wrinkled up into a shit-eating grin as he grabbed the door with his free hand. “Don’t mind if I do… slugger.”


End file.
